


good enough | miya osamu

by LiteralTrashFor_Everything



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Atsumu is the worst, Blood and Injury, Childhood Friends, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Insecurity, Love Confessions, Miya Osamu Needs a Hug, Oral Sex, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Pro Volleyball Player Reader, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sex, Sibling Rivalry, Smut, Timeskip, Twins, Volleyball, soft smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29026122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteralTrashFor_Everything/pseuds/LiteralTrashFor_Everything
Summary: Osamu has never shown his insecurity, and no matter how happy he is with his life, he'll always be missing the little piece of heaven when he can't seem to be good enough for you.  It's hard loving someone that everyone would rather see with his twin brother.  It's even harder knowing he'll never be Atsumu Miya, the perfect guy. . .||Haikyuu and it's characters do not belong to me!||
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Osamu & Reader, Miya Osamu/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 116





	good enough | miya osamu

**Author's Note:**

> Osamu Miya x fem!reader
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of insecurity, slight blood warning, language, smut, oral sex, hella fluf
> 
> 6,519 words

_“They’d make such a perfect couple.”_

 _“They’re both in love with volleyball and athletics, how could they_ not _be in love?”_

_“He’d be perfect for her.”_

_“They’re like a match made in heaven.”_

Osamu almost agreed to every word the people around him spoke. He listened with a forced smile as they babbled on about how perfect of a couple they’d make. He wasn’t really a part of the conversation, but they spoke so loudly that he could hear every word.

He wished he could suddenly go deaf the more and more they babbled on.

_“What about the_ other _one?”_

_“You mean his twin? Oh, no, that’d never work out.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Well. . . he just opened that restaurant and that’s just not the type of guy that would be good for her.”_

Osamu clenched his fists. They must not know he’s here, or at least that he’s able to hear them. Their families had always gossiped, even when they were three young children barely able to walk.

Why wasn’t he good enough for you? What made him any worse than Atsumu?

He didn’t really want an answer, but he still got one.

_“You know. . . she needs to stay fit for volleyball. Besides, it’ll look better for her career if she’s with another volleyball player.”_

_“Osamu is pretty fit. He used to play volleyball.”_

_“I know but he’s just. . . well, with that new restaurant opened it’s only a matter of time before he’ll start gaining weight. Don’t you know how much that boy eats? He can’t keep all that weight away now that he’s out of volleyball.”_

_“I guess that’s true. . .”_

Their words played on repeat in his head over and over every time he found himself in the gym, lifting weights. He panted, arms trembling a bit as he worked on bench presses. He was determined, and he refused to let himself gain the weight they said he would.

Atsumu stared down at his counterpart, one brow raised. He was spotting for him, but Osamu looked angry and he was paranoid it was his fault.

“What’s with that look, ‘Samu?” he asked.

“Nothin’. I don’t have a look,” snapped Osamu.

He knew it wasn’t fair to take it out on his brother. Atsumu never made any moves on you, not anything beyond the realm of being best friends. Atsumu was an idiot, sure, but he knew when his brother was in love with someone. He never mentioned it to Osamu, but they both knew. You were off limits to ‘Tsumu, and neither of them were sure if ‘Samu was ever going to gather the courage to make a move on the girl he’d loved since childhood.

Osamu’s biceps flexed as he pushed the weight up again. Atsumu was quick to recognize the signs of exhaustion. Osamu had been at it for a while, pushing himself more than he usually did.

Atsumu grabbed the weight from him and set it on the holder. Osamu’s grey eyes snapped up to him.

“What the hell, ‘Tsumu?!” he sat up and glared at his twin.

“One more press and you’d have dropped it on yer head,” Atsumu scoffed, “what the hell is yer problem?”

Osamu clenched his fists. He got up and grabbed his towel and water bottle. To his annoyance, his brother followed him. He completely disregarded his question and wiped some of the sweat from his face. He took a glance down at his stomach, then flexed a little to check his arms.

“Someone call ya fat or somethin’?” Atsumu questioned.

“Shut up,” Osamu grumbled, “I’m not fat.”

Atsumu didn’t like how quickly his brother defended himself. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching Osamu move to another machine. He trailed after his twin and continued pushing.

“Seriously, tell me what yer problem is—”

“ _You’re_ my problem, Atsumu!” Osamu snapped.

Instantly, Atsumu stopped pressing it. They hardly ever called each other by their actual names unless it was something serious. Clearly, his brother was really, genuinely upset.

“Me? What the hell did I do?”

“Yer just so friggin’ perfect! Mister fuckin’ perfect over here can get any girl he wants! What the hell to you got that I don’t?! We look exactly the same! I exercise! I ain’t fat and I don’t overeat jus’ cause I opened my own goddamn restaurant! Why the hell am I the ‘other twin’?! Why is it Atsumu an’ the other one? Why ain’t it just Atsumu and Osamu?! What the hell do I got that makes me inferior to ya?!”

Osamu panted as he finished his rant, grey eyes glaring daggers into his shocked blond counterpart. Atsumu didn’t know what to say. Had people really been convincing his brother that he wasn’t good enough? That Atsumu was the better twin?

Atsumu made plenty of jokes about being better, but he never actually _believed_ them. To him, Osamu was the better of the two. Osamu knew it too. He knew that if Atsumu had actually heard what people said, then he’d be the first one to stand up for him. Atsumu would beat the hell outta someone talking shit about his twin brother, and Osamu knew it.

And he still snapped it him. . .

“Who told ya all that shit?” Atsumu muttered.

“Doesn’t fuckin’ matter,” Osamu got up, shoving past his brother and heading to the locker room. He could barely stand the sight of Atsumu.

“You know that shit isn’t true!” Atsumu grabbed the back of Osamu’s black t-shirt.

Osamu instantly recoiled. He shoved Atsumu off him with as much strength as he could muster up, which, frankly, was a lot. He glared at his twin and adjusted his shirt. Atsumu glared back with the same amount of anger and his fists clenched.

“Guys? What happened?”

Both boys whirled around to face you. You stood not far from them, dressed in shorts and a tank top. Osamu couldn’t help but stare. No matter how many times he saw you, even after all these years, you were still so beautiful to him.

“’Samu’s being a fuckin’ prick is what happened,” Atsumu scoffed. “Said somethin’ about—”

Osamu has never punched his brother so hard in his life. It was an impulse move, a _bad_ one. It wasn’t even the type of thing Atsumu would do, which made the dark-haired twin feel absolutely ashamed.

He flicked his wrist, heaving as he stared at Atsumu who was on the ground covering his face. You were kneeled beside him, panicking. Other people in the gym noticed the commotion and came running over. Osamu clenched his fists, then stormed to the locker room without glancing back.

He felt like the scum of the earth.

He’d never changed so fast in his life. He didn’t even bother to shower. Osamu just grabbed his things and left. He fumbled with his keys, grumbling under his breath. He unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Only for a hand to slam it closed.

Osamu looked at you, who stood beside him looking furious. He gulped a little.

“(Y/n)—”

“What the _hell_ was that, Osamu!?”

Uh oh. No nickname. He really was in trouble, and he deserved it, he knows he does. You didn’t wait for an answer before you were continuing. He just watched you pace.

“You almost broke ‘Tsumu’s nose! What the hell was your fight about that you punched him out of the blue like that and _in public!_ You and him have an image to uphold, ‘Samu! Not only that, but you’ve been acting so weird lately! It’s like you’re distancing yourself! You’re always at the gym working out, you barely eat anymore, and now you’re beating Atsumu up in the middle of a gym! And I don’t want any excuses! I want the truth, Osamu! Did something happen when we went back to Hyogo last week to see our families? Don’t lie to me!”

You were breathless when you finished talking, and staring up at his face with narrowed eyes.

You knew the Miya twins better than anyone. You’d been with them since the three of you were kids. You were their next door neighbor, and when your mother and theirs had become friends, so did you and the two boys.

You were by their side through it all. From the day they fell in love with volleyball (thus dragging you into it), to when you three attended Inarizaki, up to now with you and Atsumu being pro volleyball players and Osamu owning his own restaurant. 

You were so proud of them _both_ , and it was obvious that Osamu wasn’t proud of himself.

Now that you called him out on all his bullshit, Osamu was completely embarrassed. Luckily for him, he was really good at hiding his embarrassment. Still, he felt stupid. He didn’t think you’d notice. You were busy with volleyball, just like Atsumu, so he never expected you to see that part of him.

“You noticed all that?” he asked, gulping.

“Of course I did, you idiot!” you smacked him on the side of the head.

Osamu rubbed the side of his head, sighing. He leaned back against his car and crossed his arms over his chest. You stared at him, waiting for an answer. He had to hold himself back from laughing, both at himself and you.

You were probably the only person who had the guts to yell at him and his brother. It’s not like girls commonly yelled at two 6’3 and very muscular guys.

“I just. . .” Osamu sighed. “Well. . . yer mom said some things.”

“My mom? What the hell did she say?”

Osamu felt stupider with every word he said. He was walking a fine line. He was on a tightrope of whether or not to confess his long-time feelings for you. It would be easier to lie and say your mom thought volleyball was better than the food business. Besides, you’d see right through it. He’s not a good liar, he knows it, and he especially can’t lie to you when all you’d asked for was his honesty.

Osamu averted his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, uh, she said I wasn’t good enough for ya. She said you and ‘Tsumu would be better because ya both play volleyball,” he confessed.

It pissed him off just to say it out loud. It made that insecurity bubble up again in his chest.

“’Tsumu and I would be. . . better? For what?”

Osamu sometimes hated how clueless you could be.

“She’s been wantin’ you and him to get together fer a long time, (Y/n),” he sighed, “she doesn’t want a guy like me steppin’ between you and my brother getting in a relationship.”

Before he knew it, he was babbling.

“Can’t even blame her. Who’d want to date a guy like me? Yer a volleyball player, yer athletic, ya need to stay healthy. I’m not even playin’ sports anymore. All I do is cook food and stuff my mouth full. I just. . . I didn’t wanna get fat like she said. I didn’t wanna embarrass ya just in case I—”

He stopped and shut his mouth. You stepped forward, placing your hand on his arm.

“. . . in case you what, ‘Samu?”

Osamu turned to look at you. You were close to him now, looking like the prettiest damn thing he’s ever laid eyes on. You have always been so pretty to him and he’s so in love with every aspect of you that it hurts.

He mustered up his courage and swallowed the lump of nervousness that’d built up in his throat. He reached up to cup your cheek.

“In case I ever got the courage to tell ya I’m in love with ya. . .” he muttered.

Osamu loved the way your breath hitched. He wanted to kiss you, he wanted to pull you against his body and taste you. He wanted to do all the things he’d been afraid of doing, the things he was _still_ afraid of doing.

“’Samu, I-“

“HEY DIPSHIT!”

Osamu lurched his whole body away from yours. He looked up to see his twin brother running at him. He choked on air, turning to dodge but ‘Tsumu was faster. His foot collided with the back of his head and sent Osamu down to the ground. He groaned loudly, gripping his head.

“Fuuuck.”

“That’s fer bein’ a fuckin’ asshole and almost breaking my nose!” Atsumu kicked him in the rib, and for once, Osamu took it because he knew he deserved it. “Next time I’ll break YOUR nose, ya fat prick!”

“I am not fat!” Osamu snapped, glaring at Atsumu.

No kidding about his nose. It was bruised and he had two bloody wads of paper stuffed up in his nostrils. His eyes were red and he was obviously in pain. Osamu felt extremely guilty. Atsumu gave him another solid kick to the ribs, before stubbornly holding out his hand for his twin. He hesitantly accepted and let the blond pull him to his feet.

You watched them, tiredly rubbing your temple. It’s hard to believe that these two are actual adults.

“Are you two done making each other ugly?” you asked, rubbing your temple.

Atsumu scoffed. He threw an arm around your neck and ruffled your hair. You whined, punching his stomach to force him to let go.

“Knock it off, ‘Tsumu!”

“Not until a admit we’re not ugly.”

“Never!”

“Admit it, brat!”

Osamu ran a hand through his tangled, dark hair. He watched you and Atsumu, jealousy tugging at him to the core. Like he always did, he put on a fake smile and leaned on his car.

“I should go,” he said.

You and Atsumu turned to him.

“Wait, ‘Samu—”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’ll see ya later, (Y/n). And uh. . . ‘Tsumu,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m sorry.”

Osamu didn’t wait for an answer before he got into his car and left. You and Atsumu watched him go. The blond released you with a long, annoyed sigh. He ran a hand through his hair.

“What’a scrub. I can’t believe he thinks he’s not good enough. . .” he muttered.

You looked down at your feet, fists clenched at your sides. Osamu looked sad, distant. He looked like he wasn’t content with his life and now you knew why. He felt like he was inferior to his twin. You felt like you should have recognized it, but you always loved him for just being. . . Osamu. You didn’t compare him to Atsumu, not ever. To you they were separate. They weren’t just the twins. They were Atsumu and Osamu, separate. Because of your own view on them, you didn’t even recognize Osamu’s insecurity.

You wondered how long it’d been there.

“Atsumu. . . he. . . Osamu said he loves me,” you muttered to your best friend, “and I love him back but he doesn’t think he’s good enough for me.”

“Wait, he finally told ya?”

You looked up at him. “W-What do you mean ‘finally’? How long has he felt like that?”

Like a vice, Atsumu zipped his trap. He raised his hand in mock surrender and turned away to make his way back to the gym. You went after him. You grabbed the back of his t-shirt and tugged.

“’Tsumu, tell me!”

“Just go ask ‘im yerself!” he protested, dragging you along as he continued walking.

“What if he won’t answer me!?”

Atsumu stopped. He turned around and looked you dead in the eyes.

“He will. He won’t lie to you.”

Osamu sighed as he entered his apartment. It was down the block from his restaurant and honestly, he was wishing he went there instead. It felt more like home sometimes. He tossed his keys lazily on the coffee table, then kicked off his shoes and made his way to the bathroom for a shower.

He couldn’t believe he actually told you he loved you then left you there with the guy who’d been his competition for his whole life. What if you liked ‘Tsumu? What if you were like your mom and you thought the same way?

He grumbled, standing beneath the hot water of the shower as his thoughts ran rampant. He felt like a lovesick idiot. He was a grown ass adult and here he was acting like a lovesick teenager.

Osamu got out of the shower and got dressed. He didn’t even bother to dry his hair. He just glanced at it in the mirror, remembering back to a time when he used to dye it grey. Now it’d grown out to it’s natural dark brown color.

With a sigh, he headed to the kitchen to get started on his dinner. He’d barely pulled out the ingredients before he heard loud knocking at the door.

“I swear, if it’s Tsumu. . .” he grumbled, wiping his hands on his pants, before going to answer.

He was not expecting to see you standing on the other side of the door when he opened it. You jumped forward, practically leaping onto him and wrapping your arms around his neck. He quickly caught you in his arms, stumbling back a little.

“W-What the hell are ya doin’ here?” he sputtered.

You clung onto him like a koala, legs wrapping around his waist while your hands clung onto the back of his Onigiri Miya t-shirt. He kicked the door shut and brought you to his couch. You didn’t let go of him until he sat down with you planted right on his lap.

Your arms released him in favor of cupping both his chubby, red cheeks. He stared at you with confused grey eyes.

“How long?” you asked.

His face went blank. “Huh?”

“How long have you been in love with me? ‘Tsumu said you ‘finally confessed’ like you’ve known for a while.” you explained.

Osamu decided that the next time he saw his twin, he really _was_ going to break his nose. That damn bastard can never keep his mouth shut. . . He cleared his throat and awkwardly averted his gaze.

“Ya seriously came all the way to my place to ask me how long I’ve been in love with ya?”

“Well. . . yes. . .”

He sighed and chuckled a little. “Wow.”

“Shut up and tell me.”

Osamu knew there was no getting out of this one. He laid his arms over the back of the couch and looked at you. You looked. . . hopeful? Excited? He wasn’t even sure what emotion could be used to describe the expression on your face.

“Probably since middle school,” he confessed.

He sounded a lot more relaxed than he really felt. Finally saying it out loud made his heart hammer in his ears, but it also lifted a weight off his shoulders that he didn’t even realize was there. He didn’t realize the impact of hiding his feelings for all these years and regretted not saying something sooner.

“M-Middle school?” your eyes were wide. “’Samu, why didn’t you—”

“Say something?” he sighed. “Because you and ‘Tsumu would have made a better couple.”

Your eyes widened even more. Osamu ran a hand through his hair.

“Ya guys both love volleyball way more than me. Plus yer both just. . . well, fuckin’ perfect. I never fit in that equation so I kept my trap shut.”

Osamu winced when your hands slapped both of his cheeks. He grabbed your wrists lightly.

“Hey, would ya quit slappin’ me?”

“No, because you’re an idiot!” you snapped.

“. . . huh. . .?”

“You’re perfect, Osamu! You’re amazing and you’re perfect to me!” you stared him dead in the eyes as you ranted. “You’re not inferior to Atsumu. Just because you didn’t stick with volleyball doesn’t make you less than us! You love making food, you love it! We would never blame you for doing what you love to do!”

Osamu was stunned, watching tears pool in your eyes as you continued. Your arms went slack in his hands where he was holding your wrists. You hunched forward, laying your head on his chest.

“I’m in love with you too, ‘Samu. You’re amazing in every way and you’re so handsome. . . I love you—I’ve _loved_ you for years. . .”

You fell a silent, letting your words hang in the air for him to process. He could barely breathe. His heart was hammering and he felt like he was floating. You. . . love him? You’ve been in love with him for years?

Osamu let go of your wrists and grabbed your jaw, making you look at him. He was acting entirely on impulse as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. You were stunned for a moment, before returning the kiss. His lips were warm and made your head spin as they moved against yours with a passion.

One arm wrapped around his neck to bring him closer against you. He caught your other hand with his and entwined your fingers. His hand was big in yours and you were reminded how much bigger and stronger Osamu was, and yet he still managed to be the softest person you knew.

His tongue swept across your bottom lip, begging for entrance. He wanted to taste all of you. He didn’t want this to end.

You parted your lips. His hand squeezed yours as your tongues danced in a fight for dominance. Naturally, he won, and took his prize by pulling you closer against him. You could feel his growing bulge press against your crotch. A small moan left your lips. You grinded against him, throwing your head back and exposing your neck to his hungry eyes. Instantly, he was on you, lips attacking the soft skin of your neck. He was soft with each kiss he placed on your flesh. He didn’t leave any marks, no matter how much he wanted to.

“S-Samu,” you moaned, tangling your fingers in his dark hair and tugging lightly.

He’d be lying if he said he never imagined hearing you moan his name. Hearing it now sent his heart soaring.

Osamu grabbed you, holding you under your thighs as he stood up and began making his way to his bedroom. You clung to his broad shoulders, peppering kisses along his neck as he walked.

He laid you back on his bed. You reached to him to pull him back to you. He slipped off his shirt, before joining you in bed. You let your hands trail down his chest and stomach. He was muscular, built from years of volleyball and now from constant exercise. You loved the way he looked, but you felt bad that he’d been pushing himself so far just because he was worried he wasn’t good enough for you. . .

The pads of your fingers brushed over the dark patch of hair that trailed into his pants. Your cheeks instantly flushed and you pulled your hand back like he’d burned you.

Osamu just chuckled a little. He crawled over you, pressing his lips against yours and holding his weight up on his arms. You held his cheeks, savoring the taste of him while he all but stole the air from your lungs.

His lips parted from yours and began peppering kisses down your neck. You tangled your fingers in his dark hair. It’s so soft compared to the dyed version back in high school. He left soft kisses over your clothes chest all the way down to your waist where his hands slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt. You lifted your back off the bed as he began slipping it off your body.

It’s funny. . . you can’t remember the last time you were embarrassed in front of Osamu. But now, with him staring down at your body, you could feel embarrassment seeping in. It’s hard to believe someone as attractive as him, best friend or not, would ever be in love with _you._ He didn’t even know how amazing he was.

“Fuck. . .” he muttered, running his hands over your sides. “Yer so damn pretty.”

You sat up, pressing your lips to his. You didn’t let the embarrassment set in, and before you knew it, you were pulling off your bra. Osamu watched your breasts spill from the undergarment, his eyes shining.

He felt like a virgin all over again when his hands snapped up to cup them. You were on another level, so perfect and pretty and all for _him._ A possessive side he didn’t know he had kicked in and he imagined being the last man on earth to see this. _He wanted to be with you forever._

Osamu groaned when he felt your hand brush over his bulge. He was grateful when you unzipped his pants. He helped you shimmy them off his long legs, kicking them aside somewhere with the rest of your clothing. He wasn’t satisfied. He wanted you naked. He wanted to see all of you. He wanted it all and for once he was content with being greedy like his brother.

His hands fervently tugged the shorts off your legs and threw them aside with more strength than he intended. He ran his hands along your soft legs, admiring them. He had plenty of chances to admire them when you were in shorts on the court, and he couldn’t help but get a little possessive.

“Osamu,” you murmured, snapping him from his daze.

You held his jaw and turned his head toward you. It felt like a dream when your lips were against his again. He savored the way your hands ran over his chest. You pushed him down on his back and shifted yourself so you were straddling him.

His big hands naturally found themselves on your hips. He gulped, watching you pepper kisses down his chest and abs. You looked anxious as your fingers delicately hooked on the waistband of his boxers. He lifted his hips off the bed as you tugged them off his legs. He squeezed your lips and let out a small sigh of relief, no longer feeling constricted.

Still, he was embarrassed to have _you_ seeing him so exposed.

You cautiously wrapped your hand around the base of his cock. His fingers dug into your skin as you pumped his length. He couldn’t help but smirk a little because he could tell you were nervous. At least he wasn’t self-conscious about _that_ department.

“(Y/n),” he spoke. “Don’t feel pressured.”

You could practically melt at the sound of his voice in that moment. It was deepy, raspy. It was beautiful, just like everything about him. You _wanted_ to do this. You wanted to prove that he was good enough for you. Too good for you, even.

Instead of answering, you leaned down. You peppered soft kisses along his shaft. His breath hitched. He watched your lips wrap around his tip. You bobbed your head slowly, savoring the taste and weight of him in your mouth. Osamu groaned with each pump, throwing his head back into the pillows. Even so, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. You were so goddamn pretty. So fucking perfect and he was on top of the world.

And, for the first time in almost his whole life, he felt _worthy._

You were so soft. Everything about you was soft. Your lips, your words, your skin, your mind. He wanted to take it all for himself and never share it with anyone. He wanted to be the last guy in your life because he wanted you with him forever.

He sucked in a breath as he watched you go down on him. Just watching you made it difficult for him to hold himself back. He would come too soon if you kept on, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Osamu sat up, wrapping an arm around you and tugging you off him. You looked at him with flushed cheeks. He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip, brushing away the saliva. You were breathtaking, even now, and Osamu Miya was so entirely in love.

He pushed you back on the bed, resisting the urge to kiss you so he could pull off your last article of clothing. Even such a small piece made all the difference to him. He couldn’t believe this was _you._ This was the same girl he’d known since his childhood. The same one who used to bathe with him and Atsumu when they were almost too young to remember.

“Fuck,” he breathed, “yer the prettiest goddamn thing.”

Warmth swelled in your chest. You couldn’t resist reaching up to wrap your arms around him. Your lips were against his in a haste, moving and tongues entwining. His hands roamed the expanse of your thighs, pushing them apart enough for his hips to fit between them.

He brushed his hand over your folds, swiping a finger through them to gather up your fluid. You moaned into his open mouth, and he drank it in like you were the last drop of water in a desert. The sounds you made were equally as pretty as you are. He slipped a finger into you, pumping slowly. Your back arched off the bed from the minor stretch. You threw your head back and bit your swollen bottom lip.

“’Samu,” you moaned.

Fuck, if he wasn’t in love with the sound of his name on your lips.

“Say my name,” he mumbled, leaning down to press kisses into your jawline, “say it.”

He needed to hear it. He _wanted_ to hear it. If he had a choice, he’d want you to be the only person who ever got to say his name from this moment forward.

“Osamu, please,” you begged. “I need you.”

He pulled his hand away. You breathed heavily, chest heaving as his hips fit easily between your open thighs. He fit perfectly, like a puzzle piece you always needed. He lined the tip of his cock with your soaked entrance, gathering up your essence, before beginning to press in.

You back arched off the bed as he stretched you. He groaned deeply, lips crashing onto yours while his hands shot down to hold onto yours. He pressed them into the mattress at either side of your head, fingers entwining with yours and you’ve never felt so _safe._ Osamu was the definition of safe, you had no doubt.

You kissed him sloppily as his hips finally pressed against yours and he was fully inside you. He was warm, big. He felt so perfect. To him, _you_ were perfect. You took him so well and he could feel the way his chest swelled with pride.

“Osamu, more,” you begged, squeezing his hands.

He pulled his hips back, before bringing them back to yours. Every thrust was slow, but hard. He loved the way you sang his name. Normally, he was quiet during sex but for you he supposed he could sing a little. It was hard not to.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned, “yer so fucking perfect. I’m so in love with ya. I want more, I want all of ya.”

“Y-Yours, ‘Samu! I’m yours!” you cried for him, clinging onto his every move.

He wanted to kiss you so bad but he wanted to hear your sounds more. He wanted to keep admiring the beautiful faces you made for him as you moaned his name and let him fuck you like a man driven wild by love.

“Yer my pretty girl—fuck—I’m so fuckin’ lucky. How’d I get so goddamn lucky?” he panted.

One of his hands released yours and moved to hold your jaw. The temptation became too much. His lips were pressed into yours while his hips snapped into yours. He kept the same pace, wanting to drag this moment out for as long as possible because part of him was terrified it would never happen again. Part of him still wasn’t sure if this was a dream or reality.

He’d savor it no matter what.

Osamu groaned at the feeling of your nails scraping down his back. His hips snapped forward harshly, resulting in a squeak from you that he quickly swallowed as he pulled you into another kiss. His other hand released yours to move down between your legs and rub your clit. You were screaming for him, begging for more and he wasn’t the type of man to ignore what you want.

He picked up his pace, breathing heavily. You were close, he could feel it with the way your walls squeezed around his cock. He was close too.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he panted.

“Fuck! ‘Samu, I’m so close!” your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging rather harshly that resulted in another harsh snap of his hips.

“Come on, fucking let go for me, baby girl,” he groaned.

Your whole body trembled when he brought you over the edge. He hissed a little, continuing to snap his hips at a faster pace than before. He was chasing his own high as you screamed in euphoria for Osamu.

The arms holding up his weight flexed and wobbled as he finally reached his high. Your legs were tight around his hips, not letting him slip out as he came. He breathed heavily, giving slow thrusts as he came down. You whimpered a little with oversensitivity. He stopped, now just staring down at your face.

You and him just stared at one another, breathing heavily. A droplet of sweat slid down the bridge of his nose and dropped down onto your collarbone. You reached up, arms wobbly, and pushed his dark hair from his face. You could feel his own arms wobbling as he struggled to hold up his weight. He was exhausted, both from the gym and from this.

“It’s okay, ‘Samu,” you murmured.

He let out a long breath, before falling on top of you. You giggled a little despite his weight crushing you a bit. He rolled over before he could suffocate you. You rolled over, resting your head on his bicep as his fingers played with your hair. You ran your hands over his chest, still breathless but this time it was because of how totally in love with Osamu Miya you are.

“I love you,” he spoke first.

You smiled, looking at his face. “I love you too.”

A soft silence settled in the room. You shut your eyes, cuddling up against Osamu’s side. No official question was asked, even though it was itching at the tip of his tongue, but you both knew who you belonged to. He took pride in being yours, but had even more pride in the fact that you were _his._

“Are ya hungry?” he blurted suddenly, feeling a weird need to make sure you were fed and hydrated.

You yawned a little. “Yeah, I’m pretty hungry and your cooking is always the best, Samu.”

He chuckled a little. He reluctantly dragged himself out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. He came back with a washcloth and got you and himself cleaned up. He lazily tossed it aside into the far corner of his room. You grumbled and got out of his bed. With wobbly legs, you slipped on your panties along with the Onigiri Miya shirt he’d been wearing earlier. He threw on some sweats and a different t-shirt.

Once dressed, the two of you walked to the kitchen hand-in-hand.

“Hey. Have fun?”

You and Osamu froze in the doorway, staring at the obnoxious blond twink who was sitting on Osamu’s counter eating his cereal straight from the box. Atsumu’s eyes narrowed. He had bandages over his nose now and honestly looked like a whole mess. His blond hair stuck up in every direction and he didn’t even bother to change out of his bloodied t-shirt from earlier.

Osamu’s brow twitched. Embarrassment and anger flowed through him. He wanted nothing more than to punch Atsumu’s lights out but he’d already done that earlier so he decided against it—

“I expected to come over and find ya guys wholesomely cooking food together,” Atsumu huffed. “Naturally, I had to come steal some but instead I hear ya dipshits goin’ at it like rabbits and now I have’ta eat ceral for dinner.”

“WHY DON’T YOU EAT YER OWN DAMN FOOD, ‘TSUMU!?” Osamu threw the nearest object at his brother, which happened to be a magnet from the fridge.

“Because ya owe me for breakin’ my fucking nose!”

“Can I not have some fuckin’ privacy!?” Osamu hissed.

You sighed, rubbing your temple tiredly. You walked to Osamu’s fridge and dug through for something simple to make some food while the twins continued arguing. Eventually Osamu got Atsumu out of the kitchen by bribing him with a clean, non-bloodied shirt. Now a shirtless Osamu was making you and him sandwiches.

You leaned your front against his broad back, wrapping your arms around his middle and watching him make the sandwiches.

Atsumu peeked his head around the doorway, eyes narrowing a little.

“Ya dumbasses are finally official, right?” he asked.

Osamu’s brow twitched. You grabbed his hand to keep him from throwing the butter knife at his brother.

“Yeah, we are,” you answered.

“Fuckin’ about time. I was getting real sick of watchin’ ya fawn over each other for years,” he waved his hand then left the apartment.

You and Osamu stood there in silent embarrassment for a few minutes. Atsumu’s words sank in.

“This whole time. . .” you trailed off.

“He knew it the whole time and didn’t say a word. . .” Osamu let out a long sigh. “I hate him.”

You laughed. You and Osamu sat at the dining table. He tugged you onto his lap while the two of you happily enjoyed your sandwiches. He was content, more content than he’d ever been in his whole life. He kept an arm wrapped loosely around your waist just to keep himself grounded because _this wasn’t a dream._

This wasn’t a dream. You were here. You were with him, his girlfriend, and you were just as in love with him as he was with you. He was good enough all along and he felt stupid for never seeing it.

. . .

“What will yer mom say when she finds out?” he asked.

“She can suck my dick,” you huffed, “I love you and that won’t change.”

“Hm. . . Well, ya know, _my_ mom will be happy that yer finally dating one of us. She’s been begging us to marry ya since middle school.”

“Seriously?” you turned to him with a stunned expression. “What did you say?”

Even more surprising was the fact that Osamu was grinning. He propped his elbow up on the table and rested his chin in his open palm. He stared at you with all the love in the world.

“I told ‘er I was gonna be the one to marry ya.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m so content with this. This is probably one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. It’s something I think a lot about because we all know that Atsumu gets a lot more attention in the fandom than Osamu. As for me, I don’t have a favorite twin. To me, they come as a set and they’re both the loves of my life heheh. Anyway, I’ve been toying with the idea that Osamu has some insecurity because of how successful his brother has become. That’s not to say he’s unhappy with his life. I’m sure he’s very happy with his own restaurant and doing the thing he loves, but there’s bound to be some insecurity when you’re twin brother is the heartthrob of Japan and a very successful Olympic volleyball player. It definitely makes me wonder if there’s some regret on Osamu’s part for not being apart of that journey. . . anyway, I’m overanalyzing. Please enjoy this! It took me hours to write (honestly because I kept getting distracted), but I really put my heart and soul into giving Osamu the attention he deserves!


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